


The Emperor's New Clothes

by Otava



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: AU, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Color Blindness, Developing Friendships, F/M, Fluff, Friendship, Nervousness, Rumbelle Showdown (Once Upon a Time), Rumbelle Showdown 2019 (Once Upon a Time)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-19
Updated: 2020-09-02
Packaged: 2021-02-26 00:22:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,196
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21864424
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Otava/pseuds/Otava
Summary: Belle stumbles upon Mr. Gold's secret and provides him with the help he needs when no one else will say anything.
Relationships: Belle/Rumplestiltskin | Mr. Gold
Comments: 10
Kudos: 84





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the Rumbelle Showdown 2019 under the pseudonym 'Butts'  
> Prompt for round 1 was "The Emperor's New Clothes".

From what Belle could surmise about Mr. Gold and his fashion sense, he had always hated the color green. She had never seen him wear it even once. Until his quick fling with Ms. Zelena West, that was. During his short-lived relationship with the Californian woman nicknamed the Wicked Witch of the West that lasted all of two months, Gold was suddenly and overwhelmingly wearing the color green. When he and Zelena went out together, he _always_ matched her. Thus, even in the aftermath of that disastrous relationship, a few key green items had indefinitely infiltrated his wardrobe and ultimately became part of his usual rotation and even long after they had broken up.

It had now been about six months post-Zelena and something about Gold wearing the color green still didn’t quite sit well with Belle, but she just couldn’t place her finger on it. Gold usually had impeccable taste and style, but something looked incredibly off when he wore green. At first, Belle thought her sudden distaste for Gold’s clothes were related to her distaste for the woman Gold had been seeing, but she slowly realized what the real problem was after many months of casually observing him around town, in her library, and sometimes in her daydreams. A lot of times what he wore with green didn’t seem to quite match the rest of his outfit.

The big event that was the “Ah-ha” moment for her was one day when he walked into Grannies wearing a red shirt, a green tie, and orange socks. That was absolutely the worst look that Belle had ever seen him wear. Everybody was looking at him a little strangely. She clearly wasn’t the only one who took notice of this odd ensemble, but of course, nobody said a word.

He walked past her booth and as soon as she saw his orange socks hitched up, she thought she knew exactly what it was: Gold must be colorblind. Red-green colorblind specifically. In the past, she had noticed that he usually kept to blues and darker colors with the occasional pop of red and red only now and then. But he now had green and orange in his repertoire due to a certain woman.

Sure, her _theory_ was that he was most likely color blind, but she had no way of knowing that for sure. Or how to approach him with such a sensitive subject as his appearance. She never saw him slip up with coordinating his colors before now. Or perhaps she just hadn’t noticed. She absolutely had to say something to him if nobody else was, right? But was it her place to? What if he just was bad at matching greens and that had nothing to do with colorblindness? She didn’t want to be rude.

People watched him as he sat down and ate his meal. Yes. perhaps he had just grabbed a few wrong things to wear today?

After some more time after that event, Belle vowed to become more observant of him and she noticed that he continued to wear some odd ensembles occasionally and it always happened with random pops of green and oranges that were mixed badly.

She was going to have to say something to him.

Nobody else was going to.

Belle was at her desk in her library when she saw Gold walk in. It was relatively quiet now and he seemed to be wearing green with an odd matching pocket square. She sighed, putting down her copy of Hans Christian Andersen's fairy tales that she had been reading, today was the day she was going to confront him. She just hoped that her theory was correct. She got up from her desk.

“Miss. French,” Gold said as soon as she got close to him. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

“Well, you’re in my library, Mr. Gold. I should ask you the same thing.”

He smiled a slight sly smile. “I suppose you’re right. I’m here looking for a new and riveting read.”

“It _has_ been a hot minute since I saw you here last.”

“My apologies, I haven’t had much energy for reading with everything going on. I did like that last recommendation you gave me, though, it did take me awhile to start reading it. I assure you, once I started, I couldn’t stop.”

“I’m glad,” Belle smiled. She paused, thinking about how to bring up the subject on her mind. “We’re friends, right, Mr. Gold?”

“I'm not sure I would call us friends,” Gold said straightening himself up, looking a little uncomfortable and surprised at Belle’s sudden friendship question.

“Well-” Belle began anyway.

“I-” Gold interrupted her.

“Yes?” Belle asked, stopping herself.

“Oh, no-no, go on,” Gold said.

“I was going to say,” Belle said again. “I wanted to talk to you about a personal issue,”

Gold looked even more so incredibly uncomfortable. “...yes?”

“It’s about you.”

“Oh, about me?”

“Yes.”

“Whatever you have to say about me or my personality, I’ve probably heard before Miss. French.” His voice carried a sort of irritability to it.

“But I don’t think you have, Mr. Gold,” she said trying to get her point across. She looked around the room before continuing. “There’s something I’ve been meaning to talk you about lately. Correct me if I’m wrong, but are you colorblind?”

“I- How do you- What?”

“Oh my gosh,” Belle said embarrassed. “I’m so sorry if I’m wrong but it’s just-”

“No, you’re right,” Gold said, confusedly. “It’s just...how did you know?”

Belle just eyed his outfit up and down and gave him a awkward smile.

“Shit,” Gold whispered under his breath. “Excuse my language, Miss. French,” he corrected himself. “I suppose I’ve been tricked by someone absolutely wicked. Is my outfit now, is it…”?

“Afraid so.”

Mr. Gold let out an annoyed huff of air. “Here I was wearing all this all this time, and nobody’s told me. I can’t believe all these people. Liars.”

“It hasn’t been too-”

“I’d say on the longer side of 6 months now according to my calculations, am I correct?”

Belle nodded slowly. “I think. But I didn’t really notice anything for certain until a few weeks ago.”

“My ex, I had some suspicions she was messing around with me after I told her that I was colorblind, but I never thought- never mind; she was capable, apparently. I tried a few outfits out on people after we split just to double check because I had my suspicions, but nobody seemed to notice or say anything to me but occasional compliments! Now I know they were mocking me.”

Belle felt bad for him. “How have you gotten away with it before, not mixing up colors, if you don’t mind my asking?”

“I’d used to ask people I trusted, read labels, shop online, picked things that were darker colors, mostly blues, and even asked the shopkeepers sometimes. There are ways I had of telling, you know, but I just can’t be certain all the time. Zelena, she had assured me-” Belle could see his anger. “Never mind. Thank you, Miss French. Thank you for standing out and being the one to tell me. Unfortunately, though it looks like I have appeared a fool in front of the whole town.”

“You aren't a fool. You can’t help it. I’m sorry. I only wish I could have let you know sooner.”

“What am I wearing wrong right now?”

“Bright orange pocket square. Get rid of it.”

“If only she didn’t sneak orange colors into my wardrobe.” Gold gave her a wry smile. He paused. “Miss. French, I have to ask. If you see me wearing any of those colors again, please don’t hesitate to tell me.”

“I won’t.”

“You are in my debt, Miss French. My reputation- Name one thing of me and it shall be yours.” Gold then thanked her again. Gold never thanked anyone, she was gobsmacked.

“Ok. I’ll think of it,” Belle said, her heart fluttering.

They ended that conversation amicably and Gold grabbed a book and started flipping through it while Belle made her way back to her desk. Today had been an eventful meeting for sure. He came up to her desk sometime later with two books to check out. “Is that all for today?” she asked.

“Yes. And I must thank you again, Miss French.” That was him thanking her for the third time that day.

“Of course, what are friends for?” Belle smiled.

He chuckled softly. “Yes, you have always been a good friend to me,” he admitted. “A true one for telling me.”

A friend.

“So, we’re friends now?” Belle asked with a hint of irony in her voice.

“I suppose we are.” He took the books from her and began limping out of the door.

Belle laughed cheerily. “Alright then, Mr. Gold. Enjoy the books, friend!” she said as he left.

She could have sworn his cheeks were tinged pink as he continued on his way.


	2. Tidying up with Belle French

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rumbelle Showdown from 2019 - Round 2  
> Prompts: Carrots & Impractical Footwear

Gold’s life the past few days had taken quite the “fun” turn. 

For starters, he had apparently been wearing some extremely mismatched clothing here and there for a while due to an evil ex-girlfriend taking advantage of his color blindness. The lovely Storybrooke librarian, Belle French, was the only one who had finally opened her mouth and told him about his major fashion faux pas just two days ago. 

Unfortunately, he hadn’t really suspected a thing about wearing mis-matched clothing until she had told him. Looking back, however, there were certainly some clues as to his errors. A few odd looks here and there when he was collecting his rent. A few chuckles. People pointing. He told himself, at the time, that he was being paranoid thinking people were looking at him strangely: thinking people must be mocking him not for his fashion, but for his whirlwind fling with the one and only Ms. Zelena West or for being the most “evil” man in Storybrooke. Mr. Gold didn’t often have flings. Mr. Gold didn’t date. It had been some years for sure between his last romantic partner. He had gotten swept up in being with someone else and lived to regret it. She used him. It was evident in the way she had publicly treated him, always having the upper hand. It was a toxic relationship to say the least and, well, it had ended badly. Certainly the looks of the people must have been looks of amusement or pity because of Zelena. What a fool he was.

Back to the subject of his clothes, upon receiving the knowledge bequeathed to him by Miss French, Gold first considered throwing out every pair of clothing he had bought while dating Zelena. The problem with just throwing everything away that he had recently bought was that he actually liked some of the pieces he had acquired. Also, what if Zelena secretly planted some hideous orange items among his old clothing in his wardrobe without his knowledge?

He had tried the orange test. Holding up the color orange up to his clothes, checking if they matched. It only really helped for certain hues of the color. And even so, there was no certainly. He only had a carrot as a reference color, knowing that the food item was probably the only orange item in his house that he knew was that color for sure. Nothing quite matched it. There was no way of knowing what was “good” and what was “bad “and he obviously couldn’t throw out his whole wardrobe!

His predicament was strong and he pondered for a while until finally coming to two possible solutions to his problems. The first solution he thought of was that he could hire somebody to sort out his wardrobe for him, but there came the problem of having to let somebody into his home and let them touch his stuff. The second and only other solution was to ask somebody he knew to look through his clothes for him, and there weren’t too many people he knew, less people that he trusted, and even less who knew about his color blindness.

Miss. French. Miss French could be a solution.

* * *

Gold had no idea how to go about asking her, someone he had never even called a friend until recently, that he needed some help. A whole two weeks passed before he broke. The uncertainty of dressing everyday became too much to bear and so, with his now due library book read and a conversation in his head, Gold marched himself into the library at 9 A.M. on a Wednesday.

Fortunately for him, he knew the slow hours of the library and nobody else was really in there to bother him and his odd request.

“Miss French.” He awkwardly shifted his weight onto his cane making possibly what felt like the most awkward introduction to a conversation in the world

“Mr. Gold,” she said. “How can I help you today?”

“Just returning the book I borrowed. A very good one.”

She smiled and took it from him as he handed it over. While they were both still holding it he asked her his proposition. “Miss French about my color problem…” He kept his voice low. “I was wondering if we could have a word.”

“Sure,” she said, taking the book from him. “What is it?”

“It seems…” he started again, trying to find the right words to ask her to come to his house without seeming too creepy. “It seems I have found myself in a predicament again.”

“Oh? How so?”

“Well the colors. I don’t want any orange in my wardrobe, you see. And I have no way of telling which is which. I was also thinking, what if she had planted some colors secretly among my clothes. I can’t go out and bee seen wearing-”

“Say no more,” Belle said. “I can help you.’

Ever the kind woman.

“I can compensate-”

“No, no, that won’t be necessary.” She waved him off. “Give me a date and time when you’ll be home and we can see when our schedules meet up.” She quickly jotted her phone number down on a card and gave it to him. “Here. My cell. Give me a call sometime later today and we can discuss this more and how you want to go about this.”

* * *

They had agreed on that Sunday, the library being closed and him choosing his own hours really benefited on speeding up this whole process. She’d drive to his house and spend about an hour or so working with him in eradicating all the orange and mismatched colors in his wardrobe.

Gold felt vulnerable in the hours leading up to Belle’s planned visit. He paced around and cleaned every molecule of dust from his antiques, not that they were even dirty anyway. Cleaning helped calm his nerves. He had no idea why he was so nervous about her coming over.

Belle had sent him a text that she was on his way and he became sweaty, panicking, pacing around doing nothing. 7 minutes later she rang his doorbell. 

“Come in.”

It was weird to see her expression as she walked in his house. Nobody really knew how his house looked, it was an object of mystery in Storybrooke.

“Wow.” Was all she initially said, Gold was radiating nervous energy as she walked around a bit to look. “You have a really nice place here. It’s interesting, but not what I was expecting.”

“What were you expecting?”

“I don’t know, but not this.”

“I see. Shall we go up to my room then?”

She laughed. “Most men at least offer coffee before they ask that question.”

Gold’s face contorted, realizing what he had said, then gave a little smile. “I actually do have a pot of coffee on if you’d like.”

“You know what,” she said. “I’ll take it. I have no idea how long this is going to take. And I feel like you have a lot of clothes.”

His wry smile crawled back onto his lips. “Right this way then.”

They went into his kitchen and Gold served the two of them coffee with a slice of carrot cake he had stress-baked the other day.

“Delicious!” she stated. “Where did you buy the cake?”

“I made it myself,” he admitted.

“Well you have to give me the recipe!”

“I usually don’t give it out, old family secret passed down to me from my aunts. But if you want, I’ll consider it payment for you helping me out today,” he said taking a sip of his own coffee.

“I’ll take it!” proclaimed Belle

After finishing up in the kitchen Gold poured Belle another cup of coffee and they went upstairs.

“You have a walk-in closet,” Belle marveled.

He nodded. “As we agreed, just remove all the orange and orange-green like colors. Pink and red is okay, but let me know which ones are which since you’re here. I’ve been itching to catalogue these for the longest time.”

* * *

The two of them sorted and sorted, Belle made cute little labels for all his clothes, they tossed some clothes, got rid of the colors he hated, and even started organizing things. Gold didn’t think it would take nearly this long, he had honestly calculated under an hour. It had already been triple that time. He definitely was going to slip a cheque into the recipe envelope when he gave it to her for her troubles. He felt bad.

When they had finally cleared most of the stuff out, they were nearly done and Belle uncovered a box near the back of his closet that he didn’t remember having.

“What’s this?”

“I don’t know,” he said, honestly.

Belle carried it out into his room. “I’m going to open it.”

“Be my guest.”

As soon as she began opening it, and he saw that oh-so familiar sheen of leather he regretted telling her it was okay.

“What.” Belle stopped herself and made a face pulling the item out. “What is this?”

“I used to be in a, er-, band. Back in Glasgow. In my youth,” he said.

Belle pulled out a pair of the most impractical footwear he or she had ever seen ever. Laced leather boots. Almost two feet high. 

“I-”

“I don’t know why I still have those.”

“They have heels,” she said. “And the laces. How long did it take you to put those on?”

“Fifteen-to-twenty minutes.” 

Oh, gods he was embarrassed.

“I see,” she said chuckling lightly. His ears pricked at her laughter. “Huh. Can’t imagine you in a band,” she said. “They’re super cool though.”

“I should throw them out,” he said, hastily grabbing them.

“No!” Belle said, fighting him for them. “You’ve kept them this long, you have to keep them now.”

“I suppose-”

“You have to,” Belle smiled, easing his embarrassment. “They’re one of a kind. Let’s put them back for now. You can decide to throw them away when I leave if you still want to, now let’s finish this up.”

Gold life really had taken a weird turn. He now had to see where it went from here.


End file.
